


family tales

by ohallows



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Children, Fluff, Gen, Scars, references to child abuse (sasha talking about growing up)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: Sasha is made of scars and stories.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SecretLyfe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretLyfe/gifts).



> HAP BIRTH TIA i’ll have the other two kids up soon i promise ily

Sasha’s never been the best at talking. Even back in Other London, she’d been one of the quieter ones, always letting the others take the lead while she stayed back in the shadows and robbed everyone blind. It’s what Brock had always been good for; stealing never had been his forte, even when that had been their main method of survival in those days. He’d been the distraction while Sasha stole enough to buy them food for a few days, and then they’d run off together before they could get caught, laughing all the way. 

After Brock had disappeared, and Sasha had been sent off to live with…  _ her _ , Sasha had gotten better at the whole talking thing, even if she’d always been more stilted and awkward with it than Brock ever had been. Sometimes she loses the plot about halfway through, and sometimes she skips over some details, but in the end, she gets there. 

She’s tucking Azus into bed when he asks about a mark on her skin; they’ve never been anything she’s cared to hide, so the kids aren’t unused to seeing the scars that line her body, but they don’t ask about them as often as Sasha expected them to. She… she barely remembers being a kid, and most of her memories from before Brock left are as faint as anything else, but she remembers constantly wanting to know why, wishing she had someone to ask the questions  _ to.  _ A lot of the kids here remind Sasha of herself and Brock; lost and left behind with no one to care for them, doing their best to just survive. She remembers how hard it was, which is why she takes them in. Everyone deserves a…  _ chance. _

“Oi, Mum, what’s this one?” Azus asks, voice rough with exhaustion as he points to a long white line that stretches from Sasha’s elbow down to her wrist. He’s been doing this more often, asking for a story before bed by way of poking one of Sasha’s scars and asking her to explain. 

Sasha… well, it’s not that she’s  _ unwilling  _ to tell them, it’s just that - when you live your life trying to hide every aspect of yourself to make sure you can’t be found, actively choosing to  _ share  _ information about yourself is like a little act of rebellion every time. A decision she has to consciously make in every conversation.

Sometimes, she tells the stories just to remind herself that she  _ is  _ safe here, that no one around will know anything about her beyond what she tells them, because all of her history hasn’t been written yet. She’s made of scars and stories, after all. 

It’s a kind of freedom she never thought she’d have, but one she wouldn’t give up for anything. 

“Mum,” Azus whines, still tired, and pokes her in the arm again. “You promised a story!”

Sasha nudges Azus’ head with her shoulder and gets him to budge up a bit. She forgets how young he is, sometimes, compared to all the other kids, but times like these, when he’s stubbornly refusing to go to sleep until she tells a story, remind her. 

“A long time ago,” Sasha starts, joining Azus and laying down next to him on the bed as she holds her arm up. “Me and Cicero were on a salvage mission to the ruins. It was right after the Fall, so there were still loads of buildings just starting to crumble. It wasn’t as desolate as it is now, with everything just… gone. A supply run was how we found some of you kids, actually.

“We found a building that hadn’t been completely destroyed in the fall. Figured it would have a stash of stuff that no one would miss, and so we set off toward it. Just wanted to see what it had,” Sasha explains, and it might have been years ago but she can still so  _ clearly  _ see it in her mind’s eye. Remembers the way the rubble cracked and rolled under her feet, the smell of smoke and decay that had lingered even until then. It hadn’t been the first time she’d gone back into Rome, but each time had left a distinct mark on her, whether physical or emotional. 

“What happened then?” Azus asks, yawning.

“Made it to the building. There was a p

“I missed a jump. Slipped on - doesn't really matter, but -“

“Wait,  _ you  _ missed a jump?” Azus asks, eyes wide. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Azus,” Sasha says. “Even me.”

“But - but - but you’re  _ so  _ cool!” Azus exclaims, and Sasha chuckles. 

“Well, sometimes I slip, too. Means you got to be  _ extra  _ careful, yeah? Promise you’ll be careful?” Sasha says, and Azus nods solemnly. 

“I will be, promise!” Azus says, and settles back in against her side.

“Good. Now, Cicero patched me up, did the best he could without really knowing anything about healing. But that bit left a mark. I'd gotten cut down my arm - thankfully my left one, otherwise we’d have been in big trouble. Cicero’s great and all, but he’s well useless in a fight. We kept going, because we really needed the food and supplies. Didn’t have much, and with more mouths to feed than ever… well, coming back to treat it wasn’t an option.”

Sasha adjusts her position a bit, getting a bit more comfortable. 

“We grabbed loads while we were there. Stuffed them all into our packs as quick as we could. There was so  _ much,  _ me and Cicero hadn’t been expecting it, really. My arm still hurt, but - we couldn’t just leave, not when there were enough resources there to help us out for a while. It took us a while to grab everything, but thankfully I’d lugged along a bag of holding. It took a while, and then we started to - Azus?” He’s asleep when she looks back at him, face mushed against her shoulder, and Sasha feels a surge of protectiveness in her chest, so strong that she feels her throat close up a bit. It - he almost reminds her of Brock, in the way he’s slumped so completely into her side. It sends a pang through her, and she swallows heavily as she gently moves him into a more comfortable position, letting herself stay next to him. 

She lets her own eyes slip closed. Nothing pressing is happening tomorrow, anyway; she can do with a bit of a lie-in. Cicero can handle the work if anything really needs doing. Azus cuddles a little bit closer to her, tucking his hands under her torso. His hair tickles her chin, and she smiles, running her fingers through the curls.

“Sleep well, Azus,” she whispers. 

* * *

“Be more decisive,” Sasha instructs, parrying one of Riz’s stabs as he lunges at her. He stumbles past, but doesn’t waste too much time before he goes for her again, dagger slicing through the air as Sasha nimbly dodges. “Don’t  _ look  _ directly where you want to hit.”

He grunts, frustrated, and lunges again. Sasha easily sidesteps as he overbalances, trying to regain his footing. Sasha flips her dagger and jabs the hilt into his side; Riz hisses in pain, and starts to fall, but Sasha catches the back of his toga and slowly lowers him to the ground so he isn’t hurt. Riz stays on the ground but rolls onto his back, glaring up at the sky as he throws his arms out to the side. 

“I just can’t get it!” he grumbles, throwing the dagger away as he crosses his arms over his chest. “My legs are too  _ long,  _ they don’t fit right no more!”

“You’ll get used to them,” Sasha consoles, reaching out to pat him on the head and then thinking better of it. It leaves her hand hovering awkwardly in the air between them, and eventually she lets it simply fall back to her side.

“But what if I  _ don’t,”  _ Riz whines, glaring down at his legs. “Just going to be a gangly prat forever.”

Sasha doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s a near thing. It’s funny how much Riz’s dramatics remind her of someone who wasn’t even his namesake; it’s been long enough that thinking about all of them, thinking about her first  _ real  _ family, doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. 

“Come on, up,” Sasha says, holding out her hand, and pulls him to his feet. “Can’t pout about all day.”

He still looks sulky as he goes and fetches the dagger, glaring down at the metal blade. 

“You did, er, good,” Sasha says, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Getting loads better with the whole… stabbing. Thing.”

“You beat me each time!” Riz says, kicking at the dirt, and Sasha shrugs. 

“I’ve been doing this for decades, kid,” Sasha says, and Riz sits down with a  _ hmph. _ She joins him on the ground, sitting side by side, and waits for Riz to stop glaring. 

It doesn’t take long; unlike his namesake, Riz isn’t one to stay stuck on an emotion for long. Eventually, his shoulders loosen, and he begins playing with the daggers, doing little knife tricks that Sasha taught him years ago. 

“How’d you get that scar, boss?” Riz asks, going to poke at the side of Sasha’s shoulder, where there are the edges of a white mark that almost looks like a star. He stops before he touches her skin, a gesture that Sasha appreciates, and then his hand falls to his lap. “Looks wicked.”

Sasha gives him a sidelong glance. “If I tell you, will you promise not to get down on yourself as much? Practice more?”

“I swear, honest!” Riz says, and Sasha nods.

“Good,” she says, and tucks her own dagger away while Riz does the same. She pulls her sleeve up a bit, showing the scar a bit more so that Riz can see the full thing. “So, there are these elemental daggers, yeah? Proper good, them, give you a bit of an edge in a fight because they hurt loads more than normal daggers do, even the adamantine ones.”

“Oh, yeah - you showed us them!” Riz says, snapping his fingers. “Told us not to touch ‘til we’re older.”

Sasha nods. “That I did. Don’t want you -“

“Azus nicked one,” Riz blurts out, and then covers his mouth with his hands, looking a bit embarrassed. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but he took one when you showed us, it’s up in his room, you  _ can’t  _ tell him I told you.”

Sasha laughs. “I  _ told  _ him not to, I did, I said not to take one and he did anyway, huh? Something I would do, if I were him.”

Riz looks slightly mollified. “So you aren’t mad?”

“At you kids? No, mate, never could be. Even if you do… test me, sometimes.”

“Aw, we never!” Riz says, and Sasha gently pushes his head away.

“Only  _ sometimes,” _ she clarifies, amused at how quickly Riz scrambles. “Now, are we done with the - with the  _ interrupting,  _ and all?”

“Yeah, boss, sorry,” Riz says, looking abashed. 

“Alright, then. So, the thing about elemental daggers? You never want to end up on the  _ other  _ side of one of them, okay, Riz? Important life lesson from, er, me. I guess. I was out fighting with my mates and we’d nicked one of ‘em, an ice dagger, from a traveling merchant who thought she could hawk her wares in Other London and not get stolen from. She hit one of my friends when we got too close, so we decided to hit her back and staked out the place. When she closed up for the night, me and one of the other kids, we called him Greasy Joe, on account of his hair, and me and him stole a few daggers from her when she weren’t looking.”

Riz leans forward, eyes bright. “And you didn’t get caught or nothing?” he asks, and Sasha gives him a sly grin.

“I’m well good at not being caught, haven’t you learned that by now?” she teases, and Riz flushes scarlet. 

“Okay, okay, finish the story!” Riz asks, moving until he’s sat in front of Sasha on the ground. 

“Do you promise to continue working on your stance?” she asks, and he nods frantically.

“Promise! Swear on - swear on my life!” Riz says, and Sasha reaches out to ruffle his hair.

“Okay, well - Greasy Joe and I had loads of daggers, right, and so we decided to do a bit of a spar, except we were both well young and didn’t really have the form yet, so he slipped and got me in the shoulder, and I woke up to my cousin pouring a healing potion down my throat and crying over me.”

“No  _ way!”  _ Riz exclaims. “But you were okay, right? You didn’t - you weren’t that badly hurt?”

Sasha shrugs. “I mean I’m here now, aren’t I? Just got the scar and the story to tell, I suppose. Honestly, I only remember how I got half of these marks, now. It’s been a long time, some of them.”

“I want to have as many scars as you do when I’m older,” Riz announces, and Sasha immediately feels her heart skip a beat. “You look badass with them!”

“Watch your mouth,” Sasha says automatically, and Riz rolls his eyes the way they all do when Sasha tells them not to cuss. 

“Yes,  _ mum,”  _ he says, sounding extremely put upon.

“And you  _ don’t  _ want these many scars, alright?” she says. “Trust me. They sound like fun stories now, but really they’re just… marks on your skin, you know? A sign you survived. But it’s my job to make sure you have less than me. To make sure you’re better. Okay?”

“‘Kay,” Riz says, and pushes himself up until he’s standing again. “I think I’m ready to spar again.”

“You sure?” Sasha asks. “You’ve been doing good, Riz, honest. You don’t need to push yourself.”

“No, no, I want to!” Riz says, flipping the knife in his hand. “Got some new ideas to try out, yeah?”

“... If, er - if you’re sure?” Sasha says, but her lips still faintly quirk upward into the approximation of a faint smile.

Riz squares his shoulders in determination, and,  _ gods,  _ but he reminds her of Grizzop, always standing back up when he gets knocked down. 

“Ready?” she asks Riz, and he smiles back at her, nodding.

“Ready.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this ends abruptly i’m sorry

Wilde, Jr. twirls in her dress in front of the mirror, showing it off for Sasha. “Do you like it? I made Amidus help me with it.”

Sasha’s honestly a bit surprised Amidus even gave her the time of day. He’s in his…  _ difficult teenage years,  _ as Cicero calls them, and Sasha’s been happy enough to let Cicero take on most of Amidus’ training while she focuses on the rest. They have rousing philosophical discussions and endless debates into the wee hours of the morning; Sasha knows Cicero has missed having someone there who really listens to him ever since the Fall, so she’s fine to let Amidus miss some of his other training if it means Cicero gets a captive audience and a pupil (and gives Amidus a chance to act  _ less  _ confrontational at dinner in the evenings).

“S’a good color,” Sasha says, reaching out and feeling the fabric. It’s lightweight and flows through her fingertips, a strange silk that’s difficult to get a solid grasp on. She nods approvingly; that’ll come in useful in a fight. “How delicate?”

“Well, I couldn’t decide if I wanted it delicate enough to  _ rip  _ in an emergency, or not-delicate enough so that I could move better in it? So I went for a bit of a middle ground. And I’ll have a knife anyway, if I need to cut it.”

“Just make sure you can still fight in that thing, yeah?” Sasha says, nudging Wilde in the shoulder. “Don’t want you getting all tangled up in the midst of an escape.”

Wilde stands and pulls the dress off, turning it inside out as she stands there in her slip. “Look!” she says, sounding unreasonably proud of herself, and shows Sasha the inside. Sasha peeks in, and notices about eight daggers sewn into the lining of the dress, all easily grabable in a fight. 

“That’s my girl,” Sasha says, feeling pride swell up in her chest. She ruffles her hair, and Wilde beams up at her. “Never really was much for dresses myself, didn’t ever feel comfortable in ‘em, but you pull it off.”

Wilde bounds over and joins her on the couch; Sasha doesn’t remember ever having had that much energy, and she doesn’t know where Wilde gets it from. Certainly not her or Cicero. 

“You promised you’d tell me a story today!” Wilde says, pouting only a bit, and Sasha sighs.

“I… did, didn't I,” she grumbles, and stretches, feeling her bones and joints crack. She’s been feeling the winter air a bit more tangibly, lately; it doesn’t even get that cold here, but every change in temperature makes her bones ache for a few days before getting used to it again. “Which story do you want, this time?”

“I want to hear about… this one,” Wilde says, and points to a small scar, nearly microscopic from how neatly it's been healed. Sasha’s almost impressed that she spotted it, but Wilde’s older now, and she’s gotten all of Sasha’s perceptiveness and then some.

“Alright, settle in,” Sasha says, and Wilde does, snuggling in and resting her head on Sasha’s shoulder. “When I was younger - few years younger than you, actually - I used to work for an old bloke named Bi Ming Gussett. He, er - he took me in when I didn’t know where else to turn. Kept me safe. Taught me near everything I know about appraising.”

“Like you do with us?” Wilde says, and joins Sasha on the couch, carefully arranging her dress so it doesn’t all bunch up under her.

“Yeah, er - guess I do… do that, actually. Yeah, like me, I guess. Well, I’m like  _ him,  _ but also time is - nevermind, that’s… not important. Er. Anyway. He had a bunch of dangerous tools there, right? And I was. Maybe a bit more curious than a kid my age should be,” Sasha reflects, and Wilde laughs.

“You told us there isn’t such a thing as too curious,” Wilde says, and Sasha nods. 

“I did - yeah, I did. And I’m  _ right  _ still, but also, you need to be a bit less curious and a bit more  _ careful  _ when you don’t know how to handle sharp objects properly. S’why the babies don’t get knives until they can properly handle them.”

“Oh,” Wilde says, as though she completely understands. 

“Well, I got a bit stabbed. Needle was sharp as a bi- as a. Inconvenient, er - thing. Went right through my arm,” Sasha says, and shows Wilde the identical mark on the other side of her arm. “Gussett panicked, yelled for his wife, and then she came on down and healed me up. Didn’t think it would scar, but the needle was a bit more cursed than Gussett had let on originally, so it didn’t  _ hurt  _ after the healing, but it left a mark anyway. I’m just lucky Mrs. Gussett was right there and knew what to do.”

“How come you call her ‘mrs?’ Wasn’t she your mum?” Wilde asks, and Sasha pauses for a second. 

“No, she - I didn’t really have a mum, coming up, but she was probably the closest thing I had to one. At least for a few years.” 

“Oh,” Wilde says. “Like you are for us?” 

Sasha considers. “Guess so, a bit.”

“Hmm. Can I try fighting in my dress?” Wilde asks, completely changing the subject, and Sasha shrugs. 

“Don’t see why not.” She looks out of the window. “Saggax is out there training, if you want to get him to spar with you. Dress might get ripped though.”

“That’s okay!” Wilde says. “I’ll just make Amidus fix it. He owes me.”

Sasha’s nearly tempted to ask what she has over Amidus, because Sasha never thought that he’d willingly help out one of his sisters, but whatever it is, it’s Wilde’s business. And if Sasha really wants to know, one of them will tell her eventually. She knows what it’s like to feel like you don’t have any privacy, to feel like you’re always being spied on, and she never wanted to make any of the kids feel like that. They’re all from bad situations, thanks to the Fall, and Sasha doesn’t want to ever lose their trust in her.

Either Wilde or Amidus will tell her, or they won’t. She can live with that.

“Mu-um,” Wilde calls, already at the door. “Aren’t you going to come watch?”

“Be there in a minute.” Sasha waves her on, and Wilde dashes away. She gets a bit tired, these days. Takes her a bit longer to get up off the couch when she’s already sat, and her bones feel a bit weaker than they used to. That’s alright, though. Once upon a time, she never thought she’d even  _ survive  _ to an age where her bones would creak more than normal. It feels. Good. In a way. 

She pushes herself up off the couch, cracking her shoulders, and sets off toward the training area. Wilde will be so disappointed if Sasha isn’t there watching, and she hasn’t had time to evaluate Saggax’s form for a while. He’s gotten better with the whole argumentative  _ thing _ , which is good. She wishes she could see Zolf’s reaction to him. Thinks they’d get on, actually, based on how much Saggax argues with Amidus. 

She settles into a chair at the edge of the training ring and watches, making little mental notes on what to tell the both of them when they’re done.

—

“All right, Amidus?” Sasha calls, leaning in the door frame as she peers into the darkened room. Azus had come up to her a bit earlier complaining about Amidus being all weird and stuff, which just means Amidus is in one of his moods just like every other teenager that Sasha has ever met. But she doesn’t want to let it keep - Amidus has a bad habit of letting his emotions eat at him until he finally ends up taking them out on a training dummy, and Sasha wants to try and head that off at the pass. 

She’s not the best at it, all the time, but she thinks it at least  _ helps.  _

Amidus doesn’t respond, which isn’t completely unexpected, but does make Sasha want to sigh a bit. Not in frustration, really - the kids definitely wring her out some, but she knows Amidus has more trouble regulating all of this than the rest of them do. He came to her later than all the others, a bit older, not so young that he’d already forgotten what it was like to live in the aftermath of the Fall. Sasha’s been trying to do what she can to make him feel more comfortable here, but he still lashes out sometimes and then curls up in on himself until she or Cicero come by to help him sort it out. 

“Mind if I come in?” Sasha asks, and Amidus still doesn’t respond, but he does nod. She takes that with as much grace as she can and heads in, closing the door behind her. It’s dark in the room, apart from the windows letting in the small streams of sunlight as the sun begins to set behind the mountains in the distance. Amidus has confided in her that his head sometimes hurts and hurts until he can barely think, and darkness is the only thing apart from potions that help make the pain go away. Sasha can relate - even though the explosion in the shed was, gods, years ago now, sometimes her ears still ring with the sound of it, and she has to go sit by herself and wait to ride it out. Everyone here has some form of trauma - it all manifests differently. 

So she knows what it feels like, when she goes and sits next to Amidus on the bench in the corner of the room. She knows he probably won’t talk, and Sasha isn’t the best at it herself, but she’s been  _ learning  _ way more since the Fall. 

“Do you want to listen to a story?” she asks, and she’s never been one to voluntarily give up information about herself, but Amidus looks like he’s one more step away from a complete breakdown, and if telling stories about the marks that cross her skin works for the other kids, she’ll willing to make a bit of a personal sacrifice to make sure Amidus is okay.

He doesn’t say anything to her question, just nods and curls up tighter into himself on the lounge, and Sasha joins him, crossing her legs . She rests her arm over the back of the chair, careful not to touch him but close enough so that he knows she’s there.

“Pick one,” Sasha says, and Amidus doesn’t even look, just points at a random spot on Sasha’s calf. His finger doesn’t actually land on a scar, which is almost impressive considering how covered her skin is in them, but it’s close enough to a large burn that Sasha has that she’s just going to run with it. “Oh, that’s a good one, mate. You’ll like it.”

Amidus looks up at that, thankfully, and Sasha can see the curiosity spiking in his eyes as he leans a bit closer.

“Dunno how much I told you kids about my upbringing, but it… wasn’t the best. See, it was kind of similar to what we have here, except the people in charge were just as likely to hit you as they were to congratulate you, yeah? Bit more… intense. It weren’t really a family, even if they pretended to be.” It’s been long enough, but Sasha still feels detached from all the memories of growing up in Barrett’s house. Still feels like an outsider when she describes them to anyone else, as though they were nothing more than a dream. 

“Anyways, I snuck into the kitchens once. They kept us all on pretty strict rations, yeah? But I was hungry and young, and Timmy had told us about a feast at the mansion, so I decided I wanted a piece of it. Snuck in with no one the wiser, grabbed a  _ whole  _ two eels, and they were proper nice, these, not those flimsy things they used to give us. Couldn’t hold in the gasp, and the cook heard me.” Sasha can swear she sees a smile poking at the corners of Amidus’ mouth, so she keeps going, hands moving quickly as she gestures, remembering the thrill of the chase as the cook had tried to grab her.

“I didn’t get caught - he couldn’t keep hold on me, but I accidentally stumbled into a brazier laying on the floor while I was trying to escape. The cook was  _ furious _ , all clawed hands reaching out to me, but I limped away without even making a noise. Never knew it were me.”

“My, er - my cousin, Brock, not the one who lives here with us, the original one, he… wrapped it up for me, told me to take care of it, but we were just  _ kids.  _ We didn’t know how to treat burns. And all the clerics at the house that Barrett had hired were nasty to us. So it healed on its own, eventually, and left me with this mark,” Sasha finishes, running a finger down the length of the burn. She can still remember how panicked Brock looked, how much she’d held in the pain when training with daggers the next day. It hadn’t been the best of times for her, but no one had ever been the wiser, and she thinks the cook had gotten fired anyway. 

Amidus doesn’t say anything for a moment, so Sasha lets her head rest back against the window they’re sat in front of, eyes slipping closed. She can just sit here with him, if that’s what he needs.

“Do I have to come down for dinner?” Amidus finally asks a few moments later, voice rough, and Sasha shrugs. 

“Only if you want to. Do you want to?” Amidus shakes his head and Sasha stands up from the couch. “I’ll have Cicero bring you something up, yeah?” 

Amidus nods in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything else, but Sasha still leans down and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. He seems a bit more relaxed, after that, even if he’s still curled up in himself and sitting in the dark. Sasha’s done all she can, really, but she knows he’ll be fine. Sometimes he just needs someone to sit and talk with him until he’s feeling more human again, and that’s something Sasha can do.

She heads out, shutting the door behind her, and decides to have Cicero add a bit of extra dessert to Amidus’ tray tonight - he seems to need it. Smiling, listening to the laughing and yelling and talking of the kids in the mess hall, she walks down the hallway, proud of what she’s built here.


End file.
